Revenge
by Melodey
Summary: (Continued from Chaos Theory) After having a dream in which he is being strangled, Gary wakes up with marks on his neck. And at the same time, a man named Curk is planning his revenge on the world.
1. Default Chapter Title

Disclaimer:

Gary, the paper, and all the other EE characters do not belong to me. They belong to CBS, Tristar, Fox Family, etc. Please tell me what you think. I know that the beginning is from the opening in the third season, but I used it on purpose. And one of the other scenes is sort of like the opening in Jumanjii, but no copy right infringement is intended. 

The setting is sometime during the 2nd season (1997), before Chuck leaves.

Spoilers: The Paper, His Girl Thursday

Revenge

His name is Gary Hobson. He gets tomorrow's newspaper today. He doesn't know how. He doesn't know why. He only knows that when the Early Edition hits his front door, he has 24 hours to set things right.

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His name is Curk McCruger. He has decided that it is time for all those who have made him suffer, to pay. He doesn't know when. He doesn't care who dies. All he knows is that he's mad and will do anything for revenge.

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~~~~~~~~~~ Chicago - October 9, 1796

"Are you sure this'll hold it Ralph?" asked the worried man as he continued to shovel dirt into the deep hole at his feet.

"I sure hope so Steve," Ralph answered as he stopped to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "A thing that evil is bound to get out sooner or later. I just pray it ain't any time soon."

A half an hour had past since they began. Shoveling the last of the dirt into the hole, the two men patted down the dirt. Afterwards they stompted on the ground to make sure that anyone who camt to the spot wouldn't be able to detect there was a grave beneath their feet.

When they were satisfied, they quickly walked away. "God bless anyone who stumbles upon that grave by accident and unknowingly unleashes that beast," Ralph said shivering despite the humid night air.

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~~~~~~~~~~ Chicago Present

Walking faster, Gary stumbled over his own feet. There was someone or something pushing him further.

Finally they stopped. Looking around, Gary could hardly see. The sky was dark and over cast with clouds, and there was an eerie mist surrounding his feet.

Out of nowhere a bright light shined down, only touching a young child who was about 5 years old. It was as if she was the star of the show and the spotlight was fixed only on her. She was digging frantically at the ground. Using her fingers as if they were a shovel.

Gary, watched as the little girl continued to dig. As if by some strange force, she was being pushed to dig, maybe perhaps by the same force that brought him here. The hole was about two feet deep, and the little girl climbed in and continued digging from inside the hole. Gary was amazed how fast the girl was digging. He couldn't have dug that fast even if he had a shovel. Finally the girl stopped digging and climbed out of the hole. 

She stood up and turned towards Gary. Her face was pale, and her hair hung limp against her face. Gary was terrified when he noticed that the little girls eyes were glowing red, and she just stood there looking at him strangely. 

A noise caught Gary's attention and he looked past the girl and towards the hole. Walking towards the it, he peeked inside. The hole was filled with a strange mist that glowed the same color red as the girls eyes.

"Grrrrrrr!" a deep growl came from the mist.

Gasping, Gary stepped backwards, bumping into the little girl. Gary noticed that her complexion was back to normal and her eyes now were a beautiful bluish-gray color. She was trembling. 

"Where am I?" she asked Gary in a tiny voice. 

"Come on sweet heart," Gary said as he picked the little girl up. Putting her arms around his neck, she put her head on his shoulder. Sighing, Gary remembered how much he loved kids. If only Marcia hadn't divorced him. He would have made such a good father.

"Grrrrrrrr!" a familiar sound snapped back into reality. Walking as fast as he could, Gary looked back at the hole. A dark figure rose from it. "Oh no," Gary said turning back around and quicken his pace. Gary had no idea where he was. Stopping to catch his breath, he looked around.

Putting the little girl down, he leaned against a tree. Looking away from the girl he tried to get his bearings. The fog made it hard to see, but from what he could see, Gary realized that he was in a cemetery.

Turning back around when he heard the little girl let out a startled cry, he found himself face to face with the figure.

Before Gary could react, the figure grabbed Gary's neck, lifting him over his head. 

Gasping for breath, Gary tried to loosen the figures grip. But it was no use, the figure was too strong. 

Terrified, Gary looked towards the little girl. She was crying hysterically, pulling at the figures robe, trying to get him to put Gary down.

The figure laughed and pushed her aside with his hand. The other hand griped Gary's neck even tighter.

With his last ounce of strength, Gary tried to wriggle out of the figures grasp. Failing, Gary looked down at the little girl who was still sobbing and pulling at the figures robe. Reaching his hand out he gently squeezed her hand. Then everything went black.

Quickly sitting up in his bed Gary gasped for air. Looking at his clock it said 6:29. Finally he caught his breath. A minute later his radio went off, and he was greeted by the familiar sound of the cat delivering his paper.

Ignoring the cat, he walked over to the bathroom. He could still feel the figures hands tightly clasped around his neck. When he arrived in the bathroom he bent down to splash cold water on his face. Patting his face dry with a towel Gary stood back up and gazed into the mirror. Horrified he studied the red marks on his neck. There were five on each side, each the size of human fingers. 

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Rubbing his hands together, Curk laughed. The sound rolling out of his mouth like fog rolling over a cemetery. 

This was too perfect. What a coincidence that he just happened to stumble upon a hidden book while at the library. Curk loved the library. He loved the knowledge that was held within every book. He spent most of his time in the history section, looking at all the books from when Chicago was first established. 

Today, he found a book that had been hidden behind all the others. He wasn't surprised that he was the first one to find it, nobody was interested in the past these days, all they thought of was the future, and how to make things better. Sitting down in a near by chair, he opened to the first page and began eading.

About an hour later he finished reading the book. He couldn't believe it. He book was a journal written by someone who had lived back in the early 1800's. According to this book, in one of the cemeteries in Chicago, there was a grave. (Well of course there are graves in a cemetery, but this was no ordinary grave.) In this grave, there was something so evil, that it would cause death and destruction. But it could only be released from its grave on every hundreth aniversay of when the figure was banished to it's hiding place.

Walking over to the front desk, he casually looked at the calendar. Today was October 2nd. Just as he thought, in one week it would be October 9th, the two-hundreth anniversary. This was perfect, this is how he would get his revenge.

"Can I help you?" asked the librarian.

Hiding the journal behind his back so that she couldn't see it, he calmly answered, "No thanks, I was just looking." Curk quickly exited the libary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Gare? Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," Chuck said as Gary walked into the bar.

"I...I think I did," Gary said scratching his head. Sitting down at the bar next to Marissa, he rubbed his eyes.

"What?!?" Chuck and Marissa asked in unison. Chuck who had been wiping the counter from behind the bar, stopped and listened to what Gary had to say.

"I...I had this dream," Gary paused to think, "at least I think it was a dream. You see this figure was holding me over its head by my neck."

"But, it was just a dream right?" Chuck asked.

"Yeah, but the thing is, when I woke up it was as if I could still feel its hands around my neck. And when I looked in the mirror, there were marks there." Gary stated pulling the neck of his sweater down, Chuck gasped when he saw the marks. 

"What is it Chuck?" Marissa asked in a confused voice.

"His...his neck. There are marks, like from someone's fingers," Chuck answered gulping.

"Oh my God. Gary, do you think..." Marissa started but Gary cut her off. 

"I...I don't know what to think Marissa. But, all I know is that something strange is going on."

"Maybe you should go to a phycologist? One that specialises in dreams." Marissa suggested.

Rubbing his eyes, Gary shook his head and answered, "No, I don't need to go to a phycologist. The last thing I need, is some doctor locking me up in an isane aslimum." 

"Come on Gare, how are you suppose to know if you dream means something? Maybe your subconcious mind is telling you to get a life?"

Putting her hand over her mouth, Marissa tried to hide her smile. But Gary saw it and remarked, "Alright Chuck, I get it. If it makes you feel better, I'll go to the phycologist. But if she starts asking me questions about the paper, I'm leaving."

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"It's nice to meet you Mr. Hobson," the woman said as she lead Gary into the room. The room was on the small side, but the huge picture windows made the room seem more spacious then it actually was. The tiny room only contained a desk and two chairs. "I'm Dr. Dittmar. But you can call me Jen," she added.

Gary still couldn't believe he had come, but Marissa had insisted. Her friend once went to a dream psychologist when she kept having repeating dreams and had help Marissa's friend figure them out. So reluctantly, Gary went to see what the psychologist thought about his dream.

"Sit down Gary, make yourself at home," Jen said to him. She was in her early thirties and Gary couldn't help being attracted to her. 

Sitting down, he stretched out his legs to get comfortable. Looking around, Gary studied the certificates on the walls. One was a degree from Harvard, and the others where awards for excellency in psychology. 

When Gary was appeared comfortable, she said, "Before we get started, I'm going to tell you some things about dreams. Dreams are very important. Many ancient civilizations used dreams to help make important decisions. We have been studying dreams for years, and we have become very good at deciphering what they mean. No matter how stupid, or weird your dream may seem, it is very important not to skip any details and any specific colors. The reason for this, is because one detail, one little detail, may tell everything."

Nodding, Gary nervously tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair.

Taking out a notebook and a pen, the woman sat down in a chair next to him. "Gary, please tell me anything you remember."

Gary told her about his dream making sure to mention every detail. He didn't know why, but he also told her about the marks on his neck. She gasped when Gary showed her.

"I've never seen anything like that," she had said.

Gary felt comfortable talking to her. She seemed to really know what she was talking about.

"Well," Dr. Dittmar started, "it seems to me that there is a lot of pressure being put on you by something and beacuse of this you are under a lot of stress. Is this true?"

"Yes, that's right." Gary admitedresting his head on his arm as he listened to Jen talk.

Continueing, Dr. Dittmar said, "Also, that there is something wrong in your life, or you feel that something bad is about to happen because of something you did." 

Nodding, Gary remembered when he went to stop someone from having an allergic reaction, but he wound up making things much worse. First he accidentally knocked a man into a shelf, creating a domino affect and the last shelf fell into the picture window in the front of the store. A man with a bag of jawbreakers dropped them all over the sidewalk outside of the store and a jogger who was running past slipped on them. The jogger tried to grab onto a nearby ladder to regain her balance, but the ladder toppled over, spilling paints onto a stoplight. The stoplight maufunctoned and all the other lights on the street went out. This caused a huge traffic jam. When all of this was over, it wound up that the man still ate the food he was allergic to, as Gary was busy watching the chaos he had created.

"As for the little girl, she represents something good in your life that is going to help you out, or already has. But what I can't understand, is that you said you kept seeing the color red and also you saw that the little girls eyes changed to a bluish-gray color. Men usually don't dream in color. Are you sure that you did see those colors?"

"Yeah, I'm positive."

"Hmmm. The colors you saw, red and blue. They mean two completely different things. Red means love and romance, but on the other hand, blue means sadness and depression."

"What do you think about the marks? Gary asked rubbing his neck. It was almost 2 o'clock and his neck was still sore.

"I've never seen anything like it. Sometimes people will dream about falling and they wake up and have fallen out of bed. But I've heard of anyone dreaming about being strangled and actually wake up with marks on their neck." Puzzled, Jen got up and searched through one of the drawers of her desk. Pulling out a book, she flipped through the pages. When she reached the end, Dr. Dittmar sighed and turned to Gary. "I can't find anything about what could have caused the marks. But I have some colleagues who might know."

Writing something in a calendar, she said to Gary, "If you have anymore dreams like the one you had last night, please call me."

Gary thanked Jen and walked out of the office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The laughing echoed in his brain. Grabbing his head, Curk tried to shake the laughter out. The mocking laughter, and the jeers. The humiliation was unbearable. He remember covering his face as he ran out of the office. 

They would pay for his pain. His humiliation. His failure. They would see, they would regret it. They would beg for mercy. But no, he would just sit back and watch them suffer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mrs. Riley?" Gary asked the woman standing near her mailbox. He was still out of breath, and in-between gasps he managed, "don't---mail---that." Pointing to the envelope she had in her hand.

"Why ever not?" asked the old woman in a worried voice.

"Because---your---your---husband---wont---won't---like you---using his---his..." Pausing to look at this paper, he quickly found out what he was looking for and said all in one breath, "his very valuable stamp from his stamp collection." Confused, Gary looked at the paper again. He was right, that's what it said.

Walking casually up behind Gary, Chuck shook his head when he heard Gary talking. Putting a hand on the old woman's shoulder. Chuck stated, "What my exasperated friend is trying to say is; You don't wanna mail that letter, because the stamp you used is from your husbands collection."

Putting her hand on her cheek she sighed, "Oh dear. This is from Henry's stamp collection? Oh my."

"You give that stamp back to...to Henry. And make sure that he keeps it in a safe place, because..." Gary started, but Chuck cut him off.

"That stamp is gonna be worth millions in a few years," Chuck said sighing.

"Oh my, that much? Well Ill make sure that Henry keeps it in a very safe place. Thank you so much."

Smiling, Gary said, "Your welcome Ma'am." Then he walked away.

"I can't believe you did that. We could have made millions off that stamp," Chuck said angrily.

"I told you, you didn't have to come. Now stop complaining or I won't tell you who wins the Cubs game."

"I'm not complaining, I'm just stating the facts."

"Whatever you say, Chuck. But it sounds like your complaining if you ask me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you sure?" Dr. Dittmar asked, talking into the phone. "But what about the marks?"

"The marks could be from Gary, he could have been strangling himself during the night and not know it," answered Stephanie who was a colleague of Jen's.

"No, that doesn't sound reasonable." Dr. Dittmar said, "It most likely wasn't Gary. So it had to have been someone else."

"Does he have any enemies? Anyone who would want to kill him?" asked Stephanie. 

"I don't know. But if someone is trying to kill Mr. Hobson, we better make sure that we do something before the person succeeds."

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Staring into the hole, he saw the little girl at the bottom. She was screaming trying to climb up the sides of the hole. "Help!!!!! Ahhhhhh!" she kept screaming.

Kneeling down, Gary reached for the girls hand. Grabbing the girls fingertips with one hand, he used the other to grab her wrist. Tightening his grip around her wrists, he began to lift her up. Leaning back, he fell over. The little girl fell on the ground near his feet. 

"Grrrrrrr!" the figure growled as it rose from the hole. 

"Whoa!" Gary cried out. Picking the little girl up, he ran through the cemetery. Ducking behind one of the tombstones he sat down on the damp ground. The little girl curled up in his lap, he could feel her shaking from fright. 

"Don't worry, everything will be fine," he said stroking her hair. At that moment the figure approached the tombstone they were hiding behind. Surprisingly the figure didn't see them and continued his search. Letting out a sigh of relief, Gary put the little girl one the ground next to him and leaned out from behind the tombstonem watching the figure leave. The name on the tombstone caught his attention. GARY HOBSON. According to the tombstone, Gary had lived from 1764 to 1797 and died at the age of 33.

Standing up to get a better look, he looked dumbfoundly at the tombstone. At the bottom it said; DIED AT THE MERCY OF THE DARK FIGURE.

The little girl stood next to Gary, taking his hand, she lead him to the grave that was besides his, it said; EMILY HOBSON. 1792 - 1797. Died at the age of 5.

Standing in silence, Gary didn't have to be told what it meant. Looking at the bottom of the grave, Gary noticed that it also said; DIED AT THE MERCY OF THE DARK FIGURE.

Walking along the row of graves, Gary gasped when he realized that they all held that inscription.

Sitting up in his bed, Gary wiped the sweat from his forehead. Looking at the clock, it was 6:20, he ignored the time and walked over to get the phone. 

Dialing the number on the paper Dr. Dittmar had given him, Gary said into the phone, "Hello. Dr. Dittmar? This is Gary Hobson. I was wondering if I could come in and see you again. Yeah, I had another one of those dreams."

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Ahhhhhhhh. The power. It was unbearable. It rushed from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head. Just standing over the grave gave him power. Alone in the old, forgotten cemetery, Curk found the location of the grave according to the book.

Now he was sure. In six days he would unleash the Dark Figure And he would finally have the revenge he so desperately wanted.

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"According to your dream, the little girl is representing your love. Someone or something is trying to keep you from this love. Only letting you ind it certain times," Dr. Dittmar said very seriously.

Gary remembered when he was dating Meredith. But it never worked out. A reporter and a guy with tomorrow's newspaper today just don't mix. Sighing, Gary nodded.

"But if you ask me, these aren't normal dreams. Mr. Hobson, have you been experiencing anything strange or different in your life lately?"

Trying not to laugh, Gary thought about the paper. What was normal about a guy getting tomorrow's newspaper today? Giving a slight smile, he said, "No, nothing out of the normal."

"Are you sure?"

Crossing his fingers he added, "Do I look like the kinda guy who would have something to hide?"

"No, I guess not." Pausing, Jen took a deep breath and slowly let it back out. Then calmly she said to Gary, "Do you have any enemies, or anyone who might want to kill you? The only reasonable explaination I can think of, is that someone was trying to strangle you while you slept."

A chill ran down Gary's back at the thought of someone hiding in his room, waiting for him to fall asleep. "No, i don't know of anyone off hand that would wanna...ki...kill me."

"You might want to take extra precautions tonight before you go to sleep. The person wh tried to kill you last night, may try again tonight."

Trying to take his mind off of what Dr. Dittmar had said, he decided to check the paper. Taking out his paper, Gary skimmed through it. MAN MUGGED BY CUSTOMER. Seeing Chuck's picture underneath the headline, Gary stood up. "Uh, it...it was very nice talking to you, and...and I...I...BYE!" Quickly opening the door he slammed it shut.

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"What do you mean your not paying, you ate it didn't you?!?" Chuck shouted at the man across from him.

"I didn't eat it! Your stupid waitress took it away when I told her it tasted like crap!" Curk McCruger shouted back. 

At that moment Gary walked into the bar. There was a crowd surrounding Curk and Chuck. Excuse me. Gary said as he pushed through the crowd. When he reached Chuck and Curk, he went to stand in-between them. This was a bad idea, because Chuck had decided to punch the guy at that moment. Swinging his arm, Chuck hit Gary in the eye instead of Curk.

Looking at his fist, and then at Gary, Chuck made a surprised face.

Stumbling back from the force, Gary stood back up. "Owwwww! Chuck you..." Grumbling curse words under his breath, Gary touched his soar [sore] eye.

"Gare...I..." Chuck started to say.

"Don't say anything," Gary growled as he walked over to the bar. Sitting down he said to Marissa, "can you please go get me some ice?"

"Of course," Marissa said walking away.

A moments later, Chuck sat down on the stool next to Gary. "I'm really sorry Gare. I didn't mean to hit you."

"I know you didn't Chuck, but next time...how about counting to ten before you loose your temper."

Smiling, Chuck answered, "Sure. That was a pretty good shot though, right?"

"Yeah, it was a pretty good shot. It just happened to hit the wrong person..." He was about to say more but Curk was walking towards them.

"Your lucky you didn't hit me, Fishman. Or you would have regret it. This better not happen again." Turning around, Curk walked away.

"What's with him?" asked Chuck watching Curk walk away.

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Good morning Chicago. Today is October 9th. Only 77 more shopping days 'til Christmas," said the man on the radio sarcastically.

Groaning, Gary turned off the radio. Counting to himself he said, three...two....one. Then he pointed to the door.

Meow! Plop.

Just like clockwork. Wrapping the comforter around him, Gary walked across the cold floor. Opening the door, he bent down to pick up the paper.

The front page caught his attention. TERROR STRIKES CHICAGO; 15 DEAD.

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HTML1DocumentEncodingwindows-1252GeneratorMicrosoft Works 4.0Disclaimer:

Gary, the paper, and all the other EE characters do not belong to me. They belong to CBS, Tristar, Fox Family, etc. Please tell me what you think. The setting is sometime during the 2nd season (1997), before Chuck leaves.

****David Strau is a character I made up, he's never been on the show****

(A very big thank you to Measer! Thanks so much!!! Your the best!!!!!!!)

I'm *very* sorry that it took me so long to finish. I hope this is worth the wait. Enjoy.......

Revenge Part 2

Dumbfounded, Gary began to read the article out loud to himself, "Last night 15 Chicago residents died of mysterious causes. Friends and family awoke to make the horrific discovery that their loved ones had died of mysterious causes**.** None of the deaths seemed to be related in anyway. Strangely all of the victims bore a tiny marking behind their left ear. The police have little leads as to what the marking is or how it associates with the deaths. Detective Donnaley of the Chicago P.D. stated, "It could be anything from a gang symbol to an ancient hieroglyphic. Despite efforts made by the police to cover up the deaths, citizens all over Chicago are panicking because of the deaths occurring through out the city.Many are anxiously waiting for the autopsies in order to determine the cause of death." 

Sighing, Gary quickly pulled on a clean shirt and jeans, then headed downstairs to show the article to Marissa and Chuck.

"Morning Gary," Marissa said cheerily.

"Hey Gar. What's wrong with you? You look terrible. Another one of those dreams?" Chuck inquired.

"It's not just that...there's this too," Gary answered holding the paper out for Chuck to see.

"Terror strikes Chicago; 15 dead." Chuck read out loud. "Is this some kind of joke buddy?"

"I wish it were. Listen to this." Gary said, quickly reading the article to Chuck and Marissa.

"Whoa!" Chuck said solemnly. "What are you gonna do buddy?"

Ignoring Chuck, Gary began talking, not directly to Chuck and Marissa or to himself, but to anyone in general, "The figure has something to do with this. The one from my dreams. There has to be some reason I'm having these dreams. If only there were someone who could help..." Rubbing his chin in thought, Gary snapped his fingers. "I got it." Rummaging through his wallet, Gary found a crinkled business card. Excitedly, he began to walk out the door. 

Confused, Chuck lead Marissa in the same direction Gary had taken off in. Frustrated, he called, "Gar. Buddy. Wait for us!"

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Wiping the sweat from his brow, Curk leaned against the shoveland wondered what he was doing. He didn't know why he belived in the Dark Figure, for all he knew it was just some ancient ghost story, but something told him to keep going. 

There was only one way to see if this were a fact or fiction. Driving...

Driving the shovel deep into the soil, he continued to dig. At that second, memories flooded Curk's tormented mind as the mental barriers he built to keep the painful memories away, slowly crumbled.

His eyes were filled with tears as the memories flashed in his head. The visions came like a movie, the only sounds came from his memory, and like his memory, they were faint and faded.

The first vision was of him at work, answering phones at his desk, the name tag that rested it read 'Vice President of Sales'. Curk saw himself walking down the halls of his business with confidence and success. Next hesaw himself proudly announcing to his staff that because of everyone's hard work, they were the biggest corporation in Chicago. 

The happy memory was shattered by the figures of his wife and two beautiful daughters lying on the floor, covered in their own blood. Bullet holes and cuts spread throughout their bodies. Curk saw the figure of himself kneeling down besides them in grief as the police came and arrested him.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Curk drove the shovel deeper into the ground. His anger giving him un-human strength. 

Laughing triumphantly, Curk watched as a dark figure rose from the hole.His triumphant laughter was hushed by the realisation that there was a three thousand year old deamon standing infront of him. It was true. Curk felt strange. He hadn't expected the figure to be real. Curk thought that the mission would keep his mind off the past, and calm his anger. But now that he had releashed it, he feared that he made a terrible mistake. 

Pausing, the figure stopped in front of Curk. Its eyes glowed an eerie dark red as it studied Curk carefully. Bored with Curk, the figure began examining it's surroundings.

Sighing, Curk said, "Its to late now." His voice broke off in thought. His voice rising again, Curk said, "All I can do is sit back, and hope that lots of people die. It'll be worth it. I'll get my revenge." Curk reassured himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You wanna tell us where we are going?" asked Chuck.

"To see David Stau. He's a...a historian. He was going to be shot when a car jacker tried to steal his car a few weeks ago, and I..I...well, I saved him." Gary answered as he quickened his pace.

"Of course. I should have known." Chuck said sarcastically.

"This is it." Gary said, checking the address on the business card he was holding.

"What a dump." Chuck retorted as he climbed the stairs of the small apartment. 

"Just come on." Gary stated as he knocked on the door.

"Coming! Coming!" a voice called from inside. There was a crash followed by muffled curses. Finally the door opened. A plump man in his late forties stood at the door. When he saw Gary, he exclaimed, "Oh hello. Wait...I remember you. You're Larry, Larry Hopskin right?"

"Gary Hobson." Gary answered.

"Of course. Come in." Then seeing Chuck and Marissa he added in a welcoming voice, "All of you!"

Guiding Marissa around the piles of stuff that were scattered throughout the apartment, Gary said, "I was wondering if you could help me...us with something."

As soon as his guests were seated, David answered, "Well, it all depends on what it is."

"Do you know anything about the...the Dark..." Gary struggled to remember what it had said on the tombstones in his dreams. "The Dark...Dark figure?"

Stupefied, Mr. Stau asked, "How do you know about the Dark figure? If I'm not mistaken, the government spent hundreds of years trying to get rid of any evidence that the Dark figure even existed."

"If this is supposed to be such a big secret, then why did you just tell us about it? Can't you get in trouble with the government?" Chuck asked smugly.

"What the government doesn't know can't hurt 'em." David answered, winking at Chuck. "Anyway, if the figure *is* unearthed, thousands of people may die."

Chuckling to himself, Chuck discreetly leaned closer to Gary and whispered, "Ha. Like we are supposed to believe that. I think that guy has a few loose screws in his head if you know what I mean."

"What if he is telling the truth? I mean...until two years ago I never thought I'd be getting a paper that tells the future. But now it arrives at my door every morning without fail."

While they were talking, David searched through one of the numerous piles. Pulling out a book, he cleared his throat loudly.

"Is this what you were talking about?" David asked holding out the book open to a picture of the figure. His fingers shook, hoping that it wasn't the Dark Figure after all. Maybe a ghost or some other harmless apparition. David's hope was shattered by Gary's answer.

"That's it." Gary answered solemnly. "That's the figure from my dreams."

"You mean you've been dreaming about the Dark Figure?" David asked worriedly. 

"Yeah, almost every night for the past week." Gary answered.

"That's very bad. Very bad indeed."

"Howzat?" The three friends asked in unison.

"Well, thats how the figure kills, through dreams." David answered. "You see, the 'Dark Figure' worked for Hemotept, the Egyptian pharaoh of the 15 dynasty. The figure who's name, I believe was Ramomus, would decipher the pharaoh's dreams. One day, the pharaoh had a dream in which he was killed. The Ramomus told the pharaoh that he had this dream because he was afraid of death. The enraged pharaoh decided to teach the Ramomus a lesson; to make the him fear death. For twenty years Ramomus was tortured before he finally died of starvation. The strange thing is that the everyone knew that Ramous was dead, but the body was never found."

"So, that means that the figure is...is human?" Gary asked

"I suppose. I'm really not sure." Davis said.

"It can only kill at night, when I'm...I mean the *victim* is asleep? Right?" Chuck inquired.

"That's right." David replied.

Mumbling to himself, Chuck said, "Then I'm not going to sleep tonight."

"Is there anyway we can stop it before it *does* kills anyone?" Marissa asked.

"Well, it says here," David answered reading from the book he was holding. "There are two ways to defeat it. The first one is to contain it somehow and bury it deep beneath the soil." Putting the book down, he stated, "Now obviously, that isn't a very good technique. The other way is more effective though. The other way to defeat it, is in your dreams. That's the only way it can be killed."

"How do I do that?" Gary asked.

"Well, many people believe that there is a vortex, and if the figure is pushed into it, it will go back to...wherever it is that it came from." David answered.

"I don't believe this. I feel like I'm in one of those cheesy monster movies." Chuck stated.

"All except this is real." Gary said to Chuck.

"So you gonna go for it?" David asked. 

"Yeah, I guess I don't have a choice."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What this?" Curk demanded as the figure handed him a crystal ball. Looking inside it, Curk saw Gary, Chuck and Marissa talking to David. He could hear every word they said, as if he were standing right there. Angry, he handed the crystal ball back to the figure. "Looks like I'll have to kill them myself." Curk said as the figures of Gary, Chuck and Marissa could be seen leaving David's house through the crystal ball.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Uh oh. Here comes trouble." Chuck stated as he saw Curk enter McGinty's.

"You!" Curk roared pointing to Chuck, as he angrily strolled over to where Chuck, Gary and Marissa were sitting.

Gulping, Chuck whimpered, "Help me." 

"I'll stay here for moral support," Gary answered. "But I think you need to handle this yourself."

"So we meet again Fishman?" Curk stated, plopping himself down in the seat across from Chuck.

"I guess so." Chuck answered nervously.

Ignoring Gary, Curk asked, "So what have you and your pals been up to? Not planning to stop the Dark Figure are you?"

"Huh?" Chuck asked, confused.

"You know what I'm talking about. And if I were you, I wouldn't try anything fishy." Laughing at his pun, Curk got up and left the restaurant.

"Everyone's a comedian." Chuck sighed. 

"Great, as if things weren't bad enough already. Now we have to deal with him too." Gary stated putting his head in his hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Curk heard Gary's statement as he walked away. Memories filled his mind once more.

"Great, as if things weren't bad enough." Curk heard his lawyer utter as a vision of him in court, during his trial filled his mind. Curk saw himself on the witness stand, desperately trying to explain that he hadn't killed his family; that he arrived home from work to find them dead. Curk saw the judge shake his head as Curk talked. Curk watched as his figure desperately searched the courtroom for someone who would believe his story. All the evidence pointed against him, and his own lawyer didn't even believe him. Curk's figure pleaded to his business associate, Mark Mcgrath for help as the bailiff dragged Curk's figure away in handcuffs. But Mark only turned his head in disgust.

Another vision was of Curk escaping from the bailiff's grasp. 

Curk shook the visions from his mind. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, Curk stared at an abandoned alley. The memories came faster this time and there was no avoiding them.

Curk saw himself running with all his might, finally stopping to rest in abandoned alley. As a police car slowly passed by, Curk saw himself duck behind a dumpster. Fear making his whole body shake.

Next Curk saw himself stealing hotdogs from a hotdog vendor while his back was turned. Huddling over a fire inside a garbage can with other homeless people. Curk remembered how once in awhile they would share their stories. Some were hiding from the police like him and others running from their families or their past, but many were just poor citizens trying to stay alive.

The last visions were of himself applying for a new job, changing his identity, and starting a new life.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Curk realized that it had been over a year since all this had happened.

Curk could feel his face turning red with rage. He remembered all the hard work he had put into his work. It was because of them that they were successful, not his lousy, good for nothing coworkers. What did he get for it? Being framed for his wife and daughter's murder, being avoided and gawked at during the time before the trial, being fired from his job, and being sentenced to death after A gun and bloody knife were found in his jacket pocket. 

Curk hated everyone and everything even more at that moment. It was time to take things into his own hands. No one was going to get in the way of his revenge. Curk would see to that. 

Turning the corner, Curk strode towards McGinty's. Opening the door he slipped in unnoticed, and hid in one of the back rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The article changed." Gary stated as he walked into McGinty's. It was a good thing the room was empty, he had forgotten that people might still be there even though it was close to closing time. Gary had gone on his last errand of the night, and on the way home, he had noticed that the article had changed. 

"What article?" Chuck asked from behind the bar. He hastily finished wiping the counter and threw the rag underneath it.

"The *article.* It used to say 15 dead. Now look what it says..." Gary said, holding the paper out for Chuck to read.

"Thousands dead. The end is near..." Chuck read in disbelief.

"Oh my..." Marissa sighed. "What are we gonna do?"

"Well we..." Gary started to say. Gary flipped though the rest of the paper to see if anything else had changed. Once he got to the obituaries something caught his attention."We're in the obituaries." Gary said solemnly.

"What?!?" Chuck asked.

"Read this." Gary stated, shoving the paper into Chuck's hands.

"Local Bar owners Gary Hobson, Marissa Clark and Chuck Fishman were murdered last night in their bar after closing. Apparently, the murderer was hiding in one of that back rooms. The police have no leads to who the killer might be." Putting the paper down, Chuck replied, "This just keeps getting better and better."

"I know." Gary sighed, putting the paper in his back pocket.

"Gary..." Marissa said, shakily grabbing onto Gary's arm. "I..I think I heard someone in one of the back rooms."

"Marissa, call the police. Chuck, you come with me. We are gonna go see who's in there." He was about to leave, but Marissa stopped him.

"The phone's dead." She exclaimed. Her voice cracked in fright.

"What?" Gary walked over to Marissa. Taking the phone from her hands, he put it to his ear. Listening for a few seconds, he began pushing buttons, frantically trying to get a dial tone. Giving up he said, "Marissa, go home. Lock the doors and call the police. Chuck and I will stay here."

"Gary, no. I can't leave you two here. What if something..." 

Gary cut her off, "Nothing is gonna happen. We'll be fine. Go home and lock the doors. Then call the police." Taking her arm, he lead her to the door.

"Be careful." Marissa sobbed, taking his hand.

"Don't worry about me." Gary answered, sqeezing her hand. Then he called for Spike. "Spike, come here boy." Getting up from his spot at Chuck's feet, Spike walked over and stood obediently at Marissa's side. Putting the handle of Spike's harness in Marissa's hands, Gary opened the door, he hastily ushered her out.

"Why didn't we go with her?" Chuck asked. 

"Because if this person is angry enough to want to kill us, do you think they are gonna leave?" Gary replied.

Gulping, Chuck answered, "No, they are gonna hide in the office for as long as it takes. And then they are gonna kill us and throw our bodies in the river."

Gary's face went pale at the thought. "We're not gonna die, just come on."

"Fine, but I'm bringing a knife or something, just in case." 

At that second all the lights in the bar went out.

"There should be flashlights behind the bar." Gary said, as he groped along through the room. Tripping over an outstretched chair leg, Gary mumbled curses as he picked himself up. Reaching his arms out, he bumped into the bar. Following it to the end, he went behind it and fumbled around for a flashlight. Finally finding one, he clicked it on. Pointing the beam away from him, he searched for Chuck. "Chuck?" Gary called. As the beam hit his face, Chuck held his hands up to shield his eyes. 

"Right here Gar. You mind not pointing that thing in my face?" 

"Sorry." Gary said, as he directed the beam away from Chuck. 

Walking behind the bar, Chuck felt around for something he could use as a weapon. His hand bumped up against an empty beer bottle. Grasping it with confidence, Chuck sat down on a nearby stool, and waited for Gary.

Taking the paper from his back pocket, Gary opened it to the obituaries. Gary was relieved to find that Marissa's name had vanished from the article. At least she was safe. "Marissa's name is gone." Gary called to Chuck.

Seeing that Gary was talking about the paper, Chuck sighed. "Let's get this over with." Chuck said as he stood up. Holding the hammer over his head, he motioned for Gary to open the door to the office. Staring at the hammer, Gary shoot his head and decided not to question Chuck's ways. Opening the door, Gary scanned the room with the beam of light from the flashlight. There was no sign that anyone was there. As Gary and Chuck walked in, the door closed behind them. Out of nowhere a figure leap at Gary. As he and the figure hit the floor, Gary felt the cold blade of a knife being held against his throat.

"Ready to die?" A voice asked.

Fumbling with the bottle, Chuck tried to steady it in his hands. As he raised it above his head, his arm shook unsteadily. 

Gary stuggled to keep the knife away from hid neck. In a desperate plea, Gary managed to call, "How 'bout a little help?"

With that Chuck brought the bottle down onto Curk's head. 

Releasing his grip on the knife, it fell from Curk's hand and fell to the floor. Slumping over, Curk leaned against Gary. 

"He's out like a light." Chuck exclaimed. "I didn't think I hit him that hard."

Straining to push Curk's body off of him, Gary groaned, "A little help?"

"Right." Chuck said. Grabbing Curk under the arms and lifting him off of Gary.

"Let's bring him upstairs. I think there's some rope we can tie him up with." Gary said. 

"Your the boss." Chuck stated, picking Curk back up. As he and Gary carried Curk upstairs, they hadn't noticed that the knife no longer rested on the floor, but in Curk's jacket pocket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That's good enough." Gary said as he finished tightening the knot in the rope around Curk's legs.

"Hey, that's the guy from this afternoon." Chuck said as he shined the flashlight onto Curk's face. At that moment the beam of the flashlight began to flicker. "I think the batteries are dying." Chuck said as he gently tapped the flashlight to make the beam glow brighter. "I'll go downstairs and get more batteries."

"Why don't you just go fix the circuit breaker?" Gary asked.

"Good idea." Chuck replied patting Gary on the shoulder.

"Just be careful."

"Why? We caught the guy didn't we? Wait, you're worried about me aren't you? You wouldn't know what to do without me. Awww. Come here buddy." Chuck said pulling Gary into a tight hug.

Rolling his eyes, Gary said, "No...I...I just. Nevermind."

As Chuck pulled away, he gently took the paper from Gary's back pocket and hid it behind his back. Walking backwards towards the door, he rambled, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. How hard can it be to fix a circuit breaker. If I'm not back in five minutes, call the calvalry." When he bumped into the door, he turned around and hid the paper from Gary's view.

Watching Chuck leave, Gary scratched his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mommy, do I have to go to sleep?" Molly asked her mother. Clinging tightly to the teddy bear her Grandmother gave her last year for her second birthday, Molly watched as he mother walked towards her.

"Yes honey. Its past your bed time, and you have a big day tomorrow."

Stoking the little girl's hair, Mrs. Brown leaned down and gently kissed her daughter's forehead. "Good night. Sweet dreams." she whispered as she carefully closed the door.

Sighing, Molly closed her eyes and whispered, "Good night." to her teddy bear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One by one, the lights in Chicago went out, and people went to sleep, unaware that with dreams came the Dark Figure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Opening the door of the fuse box, Chuck pointed the beam of the flashlight inside. Reading the labels Chuck scratched his head with the end of the flashlight. He remembered Gary telling him what to do, but Chuck wasn't really paying attention. Closing his eyes, Chuck moved his hand around in a circle and stopped by a switch. Shrugging, Chuck figured it couldn't hurt to try. Pushing up on the switch, he felt a shock go through his body. Pulling his hand away, Chuck yelped in pain.

Taking a deep breath, Chuck calmly approached the box. Slamming the lid closed he began punching it over and over again. "Why do they have to make these things so complicated?!?" 

Finally calming down, Chuck noticed that the door of the fuse box was slightly dented inwards. Shrugging, Chuck told himself that it wasn't that noticeable. Opening the box once more, he skimmed through the labels. PUSH AFTER LOSS OF POWER. Scratching his head, Chuck guessed that someone had put that there for people like him.

"That should do it." Chuck said as he pushed the button on the curcuit breaker. Sure enough the lights flickered, then turned on. "That wasn't so hard." Chuck said. Remembering that he had *the paper* in his back pocket, he reached or it. Skimming through the paper, he reached the obituaries. An article caught his eye. BAR OWNER GARY HOBSON MURDERED AFTER CLOSING. "I'm coming Gar!" He shouted as he ran up the stairs of the basement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sighing, Gary found a candle and some matches. Lighting the candle he walked over and sat down on the couch. Looking over to the spot were Curk was tied up on the floor, he was shocked to see that all that remained was the ropes that once tied Curk's ankles and arms together. The rope had somehow been cut. Turning around, Gary was face to face with Curk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turning the corner, Marissa walked over to the nearby pay phone. Picking up the receiver, she dialed.

"911. What is your emergency?" the operator calmly asked.

"I'd like to report a crime. McGinty's, on 228 West Illinois Street and Franklin Ave.

I think someone is hiding in one of the back rooms. You have to get over there as soon as possible. Its a matter of life or death." Marissa esasperatedly cried into the phone. She had desperately tried to get home as soon as she could, hoping that it wasn't too late.

"Are you in the building with the person, ma'am?"

"No, but my friends Gary and Chuck are. You have to hurry, they're in trouble." Marissa's voice cracked as she talked.

"Calm down Ma'am. We'll have people over to help your friends as soon as possible." Placing her hand over the receiver, the operator shouted across the room, "Hey Sam. You gotta send someone overto 228 West Illinois Street and Franklin Ave ."

The officer turned around and sighed, "Yeah, yeah. All my guys are busy right now. But I'll see what I can do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


End file.
